“Adults do need time together,” I explained gently. “But that never means their children become less important.”

“He said if I loved you, I’d want you to spend more time with him.”

I breathed slowly.

“June, you can love me and still want time together.”

She nodded.

Then she asked something unexpected.

“Did you and Dad divorce because I needed too much attention?”

My stomach sank.

“What?”

“Colin said sometimes couples grow apart when everything becomes about their children.”

I stared.

“He told you that?”

She nodded.

“He didn’t say that’s why you and Dad separated. I just wondered…”

Her voice trailed off.

I moved closer.

“June, your father and I divorced because our marriage didn’t work out. Those were grown-up issues. You weren’t responsible.”

“Even when I was little?”

“Especially then.”

She studied my face.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Her shoulders relaxed.

I held her until she became sleepy.

Downstairs, I sat at the kitchen table, looking around our home.

June’s drawings covered the refrigerator.

Her backpack hung beside the pantry.

One sneaker rested near the back door.

A library book lay beneath the fruit bowl.

This was her home.

I’d purchased it when she was five.

Every room held memories of her.

She’d lost her first tooth in the upstairs bathroom.

She’d learned to read on the living room rug.

We’d painted her bedroom yellow when she turned eight because pink suddenly seemed too childish.

And Colin had planned to move into this house while gradually persuading her she should spend less time here.

I picked up my phone.

Eleven messages from him waited.

Most concerned the wedding.

Some sounded frustrated.

Others were apologetic.

His latest message read:

I love you, Paige. I love June. I made a mistake. We can reschedule the wedding and do everything your way.

I stared at it.

Then I called.

He answered immediately.

“Paige?”

“We need to discuss the house.”

He paused.

“What about it?”

“Your boxes are still in my garage. I need you to collect them.”

“Paige, please.”

“Arrange a time with Renee. I’ll have everything ready.”

He sighed.

“Are you seriously ending our relationship?”

“Yes.”

“Even after I apologized?”

“You haven’t properly apologized to June.”

“I told her I was sorry.”

“You told her she’d misunderstood.”

Silence followed.

Then he spoke.

“Listen, I grew up believing marriage should come first. Maybe I handled things poorly.”

“Then why didn’t you discuss it with me?”

“Because I knew you’d refuse.”

His answer came so quickly that we both fell silent.

I stared at the wall.

There it was.

The truth I’d been searching for.

He hadn’t misunderstood my priorities. He hadn’t simply made an innocent mistake.

He knew I’d never agree to making June feel less important.

So he’d approached her instead.

“You knew I’d refuse,” I repeated.

He exhaled.

“Paige, I was trying to make everything easier.”

“For whom?”

“For us.”

“There was never an ‘us’ that excluded my daughter.”

“That’s unfair.”

“Maybe from your perspective.”

He sounded exhausted.

“Someday you’ll regret ending everything over one disagreement.”

I looked at June’s school photograph on the refrigerator.

She smiled brightly, showing her front teeth.

A year earlier, she’d felt embarrassed about the gap between them.

I’d told her it was one of my favorite smiles.

Now I wondered how long she’d worried about being too important in her own family.

“No,” I answered softly. “I don’t believe I will.”

I ended the call.

The following week was difficult.

Colin collected his belongings while Renee stayed at the house.

He returned his key.

I changed the garage access code.

We exchanged emails about wedding costs and divided outstanding expenses according to our previous agreements.

Most deposits were nonrefundable.

I lost savings I’d spent nearly a year putting aside.

There were calls to make, presents to return, and relatives requesting explanations.

I simply said our engagement had ended because of serious differences concerning family expectations.

I wouldn’t turn June’s private conversations into family gossip.

Owen called after I explained what had happened.

He remained silent for a while.

Then asked, “Does June understand none of this was her responsibility?”

“I’m doing everything I can to help her understand.”

“She can stay with me whenever she wants, Paige. But she should never think anyone is sending her away.”

“I know.”

He sighed.

“I liked Colin.”

“So did I.”

Another pause.

Then Owen said, “I’m glad she told you.”

I glanced toward the staircase.

“Me too.”

Over the following weeks, June and I communicated more openly.

Sometimes she had questions.

Other times, she preferred silence.

I arranged several appointments with a child counselor so she could explore her feelings with someone outside the wedding situation.

I also stopped assuming she understood everything simply because she nodded when adults spoke.

One evening, after I’d reminded her again that she didn’t need to apologize for asking for a ride to a friend’s house, she asked:

“Mom, was I selfish about the wedding?”

I put down my dish towel.

“No.”

“But I really wanted to walk with you.”

“Why would that make you selfish?”

She considered it.

“Because it was your special day.”

I sat beside her.

“June, do you remember why I asked you to escort me?”

“Because we’re family?”

“Exactly. And because you’ve stood beside me through some of the biggest changes in my life.”

She looked at me.

“You never had to earn that place. It already belonged to you.”

Her eyes filled.

For the first time since the canceled wedding, she cried without apologizing.

I held her close.

When she finally settled, she asked if we could make pancakes on Saturday.

I smiled.

“Absolutely.”

“Even though there’s nothing special happening?”

I kissed her forehead.

“Especially then.”

Chapter 8 — A Family of Two

Six weeks after our canceled wedding, June came downstairs holding her lavender dress.

I was folding laundry at the kitchen table.

“Mom?”

I looked up.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

She lifted the dress.

“Could I wear this again?”

“Of course.”

“Even though it’s a wedding dress?”